LA's Most Epic Family Haunted House Might Be in Van Nuys

About a month ago, as he lay in a hospital bed after a stroke, Kenny Enea had one main concern: Would the Halloween decorations be finished on time?

“The only thing he was worried about was getting out and finishing,” says Ana Lovelis, his partner of 32 years.

The Hatteras Haunted House in Sherman Oaks is in its eighth year and is a mix of hoarded, handmade, store-bought and vintage items.

(David Butow / For The Times)

After all, if the elaborate front yard shelter wasn't fully assembled by Oct. 31, eight months of work could be wasted. This is the eighth and final year that Enea's family of four will transform their Van Nuys property into a terrifying attraction that scares thousands of visitors each Halloween.

Today, Enea, 62, is on the road to a full recovery, and the Hatteras Halloween House — its official name, based on the street that borders the house — ended with days to spare. The family is planning a large-scale party on Friday with a tarot reader, a handful of actors and even a wedding: Lovelis and Enea have decided that, after more than three decades together, it's time to get married. Their two daughters, Nia and Rena Lovelis, both in their 20s, will serve as “best man” and maid of honor.

The Hatteras Halloween House has become one of the most well-known venues in the San Fernando Valley, a region now known for its extravagant DIY Halloween displays, especially in Burbank. Entering is a walk through a small cemetery before finding a winding array of themed spaces: a skeleton sitting in front of a decrepit antique piano gives way to a rickety bridge, a gentle swamp, a tea temple filled with dolls, a chapel and an exorcism room.

A haunted house with giant skeletons and spooky lights.

The displays are so large that as the bridge facades and mini-church began to take shape, the family received a visit from a city inspector. A neighbor, Nia says, complained that the family was building an unauthorized ADU.

“They thought it was a real addition to the house,” says Ana. “We said, 'No, they're Halloween decorations.' The inspector came and I said, 'No, it's foam.'”

One segment of the venue is illuminated by bloody hands holding plastic tea lights. The stairs to nowhere hide bones and body parts in their most vulnerable part. Handwritten notes, courtesy of a narrative devised by Nia, dot the space and hint at an immersive story. A slow, abstract waltz to a moody soundtrack, courtesy of Rena, sets the eerie beat. A mix of store-bought animatronics, handmade props and found objects – antique lamps, creatures with elongated necks and an assortment of mystical and witchy knick-knacks – fill every corner.

A church scene inside the Hatteras Haunted House.

Consider it a collection of intimate rooms, each with new revelations and surprises. You may want to crouch down, for example, if you see a snake near a foggy water source. Elsewhere, a cabinet never stops shaking as we wait for its door to open. The surrounding fences and vintage-inspired covered wooden bridge took months to build (Enea and Ana run a construction company) and luxuries like vacations were skipped, as the family estimates that not a night or weekend went by without some work being done on the haunted house. Ana estimates the total cost somewhere in the range of $20,000. And Rena quickly quips: “Don't ask about the DWP bill.”

The Hatteras Halloween House

In some ways, the place feels like an extension of the family home. On a recent afternoon, the four of them, plus Darragh Hettrick, Nia's partner, were gathered in a living room that looked like a cross between an antique store, a tarot shop, and an apothecary hideaway. Or perhaps the embodiment of a witches' coven: candles, crystals and fantastical items (a small mermaid hangs on one wall) adorn the space.

“It's not just Halloween,” Enea says. “We're drawn to the darker side of everything in life. Everything is a little left of center. A lot left of center.”

“We seek to unite darkness with light,” says Ana, noting that she has been fascinated by Halloween, costumes and masks since early childhood.

A spooky woman figure at the Hatteras Halloween House.

At first, the family's haunts were relatively modest: a hodgepodge of Halloween decorations. But in the last four years, especially, the couple and their children have experimented with various topics. Last year, for example, it was a “hellish hotel”, with rooms inspired by demented clowns or terror at sea. Other years have experimented with aliens, with a 12-foot spaceship dangling above the process.

It became a family craft project taken to the maximalist extreme. Ana says she wanted something that neighborhood kids could experience for free. Many neighbors began to participate, either by leaving old Halloween decorations or even performing at the haunt. Enea says the project brought her joy during our stressful and divisive cultural climate.

“In these times that we are living in in this country and in the world, there is no politics or religion here,” says Enea. “We're literally having a good time. There's no left or right. Everyone is just in itand have a good time. I see the experience of the people who come with the children and everyone is very happy. Can't we have that all over the world? “I know it’s Pollyanna thinking, but we can bring happiness to this little section of Van Nuys.”

A Van Nuys house illuminated for Halloween.

Multiple household haunts throughout the San Fernando Valley have been attracting attention in the south in recent years. Jen Spincic created the Halloween at Burbank and Beyond map and site in 2020 to catalog them all. Spincic's accompanying Instagram contains dives into some of the best-known ones, which this year included a house that's a mix of “Wicked” and “The Wizard of Oz,” a spooky exploration of all things clown, and a joyous celebration of Disney-inspired culture.

“In the last three years it has skyrocketed a lot,” says Spincic. “More and more people are decorating. It's a destination. I see people on the news keep calling it 'Halloween Town.'”

Halloween in 2025 often extends into late summer, and there are more and more conventions, theme parks, and movies celebrating a spooky atmosphere all year long. Spincic also attributes the growth to our cultural climate, theorizing that people need community and tension-free places to gather. “Nowadays everyone hates each other, whether it's political differences or whatever,” Spincic says. “It brings people together. People laugh, connect and talk.”

Props, spooky antiques, and strange dolls are found throughout the Hatteras Halloween House.

But all this raises a question. The Hatteras Halloween House clearly brings family together. Nia can talk for over five minutes explaining the Byzantine narrative she has constructed for the shelter. Rena talks proudly of experimenting with jazz sounds for the soundtrack (both daughters were in the now-defunct Los Angeles rock band Hey Violet). Can they really leave the shelter?

Nia says the family is nostalgic for the days before turning their home into a destination, when they explored each other's creativity and art.

“They bought a cabin and want to spend time building it next year,” Nia says of her parents. “I don't think we can do anything. Mom and I will be there next year putting up some props, but before we started doing the tours we would go to Reign of Terror (in Thousand Oaks) and all the places the houses frequented. It was a tradition for the family.”

Enea says he needs a break too. This year they worked with the local fire department to ensure the shelter was up to code, and on Halloween night they hired actors and security. But before Enea can relax, Anna is repeating a series of dreams for the future: maybe the family opens a Halloween-inspired pizzeria, or maybe a “haunted” house that can be rented.

“My ideas are endless,” he says. “I just have to figure out how to get Kenny involved.”

And moments after the family talks about the haunted house retreat, for example, they also gush about the Krampus figure they bought that will appear this holiday season. They may be able to remove the ghost from the garden, but don't expect the Hatteras house to go completely silent at night.

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